


Looking for Mrs Shugak

by miloowen



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-20
Updated: 2012-11-20
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miloowen/pseuds/miloowen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Will Riker's account of his childhood was just another variation of the story he told his schoolmates about his mother?  What if Kyle Riker's neglect was not all that benign?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Mrs Shugak

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little historical what-if. Although Riker listed Valdez as his hometown, this is set in one of the little Park communities outside of Valdez.

Looking for Mrs Shugak

 

He’d forgotten his jacket, and so now he sat on the doorstep in the increasingly chill wind. There was no one home; the door was locked. There was no note, and the boy had no way of knowing what he was now supposed to do. He wrapped his arms around his long legs and rested his head on his knees. There was Mrs Shugak; she’d been the last person to stay with him while his father was away. He wondered how he could find her. Maybe if he walked back towards town, he could stop at Murphy’s and ask someone in there where to find Mrs Shugak. Surely one of the men would know; she was on the tribal council.

He stood up. The sun was starting to go down. If he were going to walk to town, he’d better hurry. The temperature would plummet once the sun went down. He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets to keep them warm and began to walk briskly back toward the street.

He heard an eagle overhead, and stopped to watch it stoop and then veer off towards the forest. Somewhere there would be an aerie, and a mate, and perhaps half-grown birds. He sighed. Eagles never left their babies alone.

The boy walked down the street, watching the shadows of the trees grow longer. He’d forgotten how quickly it would be dark. He’d forgotten his jacket, and his mittens and hat were in his jacket. Stupid teacher should have made sure he had his jacket – he kicked a small rock into the ditch beside the street. Immediately there was a rustling in the bushes, and the strong stench of bear.  
The boy stopped and held his breath. If he didn’t move, if he didn’t attract attention, it was possible – maybe – that the bear would not bother with him. He thought quickly about what he’d been told about bears. Play dead if the bear attacked him; climb a tree if it came after him – no, wait, bears could climb trees. The rustling grew louder, yet the boy stood there, not quite sure what he should do.

“Do you need help?”

The boy jumped; the bushes rustled again; the man in the transport vehicle reached over and opened the door. 

“Get in, now,” he said.

The boy didn’t need a second offer. He scrambled onto the seat, and heard the automatic lock click. The vehicle was warm and the boy was grateful. His hands and cheeks were frozen.

The vehicle was moving. The man said, “There’s a blanket in the back if you need it.”

“Okay,” the boy said. “I’m okay.”

“What were you doing outside at night? Where’re your parents?” the man asked.

“I don’t know where my father is,” the boy said softly. “I came home late from school and there was nobody there.”

“There must be some mistake,” the man insisted. “How old are you, twelve?”

The boy was silent. “There’s Murphy’s,” the boy said. “I was going there so I could contact Mrs Shugak. She – she sometimes takes care of me when my father’s away.”

The man stopped the vehicle. “You mean, you think your father went away and left you? How old are you?”

“You can let me off here,” the boy said. He did not look at the man. “Sometimes Mr Nilssen’s in Murphy’s. He’s married to Mrs Shugak’s niece; he’ll know where she is. I’ll be okay,” he said. “The bear is probably gone.”

The man said, “You haven’t answered my question. How old are you? Where is your father? What is going on?”

The boy realised the door was still locked, so he turned to look at the man. “Thank you for helping me. You must be new here, because I don’t recognize you. My name is William. I’m almost ten.”

“You’re pretty big for ten,” the man said.

The boy shrugged. “Everything is big in Alaska,” he said. “Even kids.”

The tension in the vehicle seemed to lessen, and the man actually smiled. “Fair enough,” he said. “Mark Wenzel. And I am new here. And I need to know why an almost-ten-year-old was walking by himself, at night, not properly dressed. You really don’t know where your father is? What about your mother? Who is your father?”

The boy William closed his eyes briefly, as if shutting out unwanted information. “My father works for Starfleet,” he said. “Sometimes he has to go away. That’s when I stay with Mrs Shugak. It must’ve been some sort of emergency. Usually he leaves a note or Mrs Shugak comes for me. My mother,” the boy said, with an odd maturity, “is none of your business.”

The man was silent, as if assessing the situation. Then he said, “Your father is Kyle Riker? That’s who I’m here to see.”

The boy looked at him, and then turned his face to the window. “If you say so,” he said. “Please let me out so I can talk to Mr Nilssen.”

“William,” the man said. “Listen to me. I’m here to speak to your father. I’m sure that there’s been some mistake. I’ll take you to where I’m staying. We’ll contact your father together.”

The boy looked up at the man calling himself Mark Wenzel. “I don’t know you,” he said. “I don’t know anything about you – “

“I saved you from a bear,” Wenzel reminded him  
.  
“Maybe.” The boy was quiet. “All right,” he said. “But I want to talk to Mrs Shugak.”

“You’re as stubborn as your father,” Wenzel said and chuckled. He grinned at the boy and was surprised to see the boy’s face was frozen and emotionless.

Wenzel started the vehicle and they drove past Murphy’s Tavern. The boy kept his eyes turned to the window, away from Wenzel. He kept his hands strangely still in his lap.

Wenzel found the boy’s silence unnerving. “So how come you were late at school?” he asked. “It’s Billy, right?”

The boy did not look at him. “William,” he said. “Not Billy. I was finishing a science project.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Wenzel said. “Your father mentioned how bright you are.”

Wenzel was surprised when the boy looked at him with an expression that was almost disgust.

“Whatever.” The boy looked back out the window.

Wenzel pulled into the local motel. The boy was pleased, because he knew that Mrs Shugak’s nephew Dan worked there, and he was sure to be able to find her now. He waited for the man to unlock the door so he could get out, but the man did not.

“How old did you say you were again?” he asked.

The boy sighed. “Almost ten,” he said. “I told you that. Are we getting out or not?”

“Your father said you were twelve,” Wenzel continued.

“My father’s a liar,” the boy said. “I thought you said you knew him.”

“Fine,” Wenzel said.

He unlocked the doors and he and the boy got out of the vehicle. The boy headed for the motel office, but Wenzel stopped him. He took him by the arm, a little firmly.

“My room is over here”

“You said you would let me call Mrs Shugak.”

“I said we would talk to your father together.”

“What if I don’t want to speak to him?” the boy said defiantly.

“I don’t really care,” Wenzel said, leading the boy to his room on the ground floor. “I am the adult, you are not.”

Wenzel unlocked the door and gave the boy a small push. The boy ducked, and wheeled around.

“Don’t touch me.” The boy glared at him, his fists clenched.

Wenzel shut the door and laughed. “Just what do you think you’ll do to me?” he asked. “You’re nine years old, remember?”

Wenzel crossed the room and pulled the curtains. He turned around to face the boy, who was still standing in front of the door, his fists still clenched.

“You’ll probably be a foot taller than your father when you grow up,” Wenzel remarked. “But you have his temper.”

The boy relaxed. “I just don’t like people touching me,” he said.

Wenzel grinned. “I know that’s not true, Billy,” he said. “Your father told me exactly what you like and don’t like.”

The boy was still. Wenzel sat down on the bed, and patted the space beside him.

“Didn’t your father tell you never to talk to strangers?” he asked, smiling.

The boy seemed to be considering his options -- Wenzel was a patient man, not without experience with children – so he waited, his hand resting on the quilt beside him. The boy looked down at the floor, and when he looked up again, he had that same oddly mature look on his face that he’d had in the vehicle. Wenzel continued to wait. Finally, the boy crossed the room and sat down on the bed, and did not flinch when Wenzel rested his hand on the boy’s thigh.

“Whatever,” the boy said. “But you need to feed me better than Mrs Shugak would.”


End file.
